Page 204 of Lovers Like Us
My head turns, and I think about thesomeonewho I love deeply. Moments fly past my mind in Technicolor, every second I’ve spent with Farrow. Vivid. Andoverwhelming.
My chest swells, and I glance atJanie.
She smiles bright, knowing who I’m thinking about. “Go get him, oldchap.”
So I leave the dance floor in search of a colossal know-it-all. My shoes sink into grass, and I wave briskly at my grandparents who call myname.
I undo my bowtie, passing wooden tables and wickerchairs.
Easily, I see him. Farrow chats with Oscar at the garden entrance. Where tall hedges form an opening, and cedar stools and barrel tabletops scatter thearea.
As soon as I approach, their conversation still continues, but their attention zeroes in onme.
Farrow’s eyes descend my body in a hot once-over.
My brain sputters like a fourth-grader. Whatever I fucking planned to say just evacuates.Great.
Before I find any words, Oscar flashes a circular pin at me. Black with rainbow block letters that spell out:RainbowBrigade.
“Your sister recruited us into her little club.” Oscar attaches his pin to his button-down.
“Officially,” Farrow adds with the raise of hisbrows.
“And she called me a troll,” Oscar tellsme.
My lips almost lift. Kinney already gave Tom and me a pin this morning. “She does that,” I say and watch his gaze drift to the taco bar andcake.
“Extra security is here,” Farrow remindshim.
“Then I’m out for a cake break.” Oscar puts a hand on Farrow’s shoulder. “See you, Redford.” Then mine. “Hale.”
Farrow balances his boot on the rung of a stool, his piercings glinting in the warm light. I rest my forearm on the barrel tabletop. Trying to be casual,nonchalant.
He notices, and his smile keeps expanding. “Man, if you have something tosay—”
“I heard that you retook the Hogwarts House sorting quiz.” Jesus Christ. I couldn’t have made a stranger digression from what I actuallywantto say. I end up crossing myarms.
Farrow tilts his head, eyeing me up and down. “Luna wanted me to. She didn’t think I wasGryffindor.”
Apparently, he got Ravenclaw this time around. My mom freaked, and she’s been ordering him some Ravenclaw scarves to add to the Gryffindor paraphernalia she bought him yearsago.
I nod. “Cool.” I pop a button at my collar, my bowtie alreadyundone.
Farrow looks at me like I’ve rocketed to Mars and built a colony of one. “Cool?” he repeats, then he checks me out again, which scorches my body. “You look good in a tux, wolfscout.”
“Better than you,” I say, even though he’s only wearing a black button-down, tucked into black pants that fit him too damnperfectly.
Farrow rolls his eyes into a short laugh. “You love your fanfiction.”
I shake my head and seriousness slams hard into my chest. “I like myreality.”
His chest rises, and he steps closer. But a drone buzzes overhead. Causing him to pause and check over his shoulder. “I think you mean,” he says, his gaze returning to me, “that youloveyourreality.”
“Almost,” I tell him strongly, and words pour out of me. “You know what I was thinking while my parents recited their vowstoday?”
Farrow shifts his weight like he’s bracing for impact. “What?”
“I was thinking that I want a love like theirs, the in-your-face, overjoyed kind of love that knocks you backwards—and what the fuck is stopping me?” I pause. “And I realized the answer isme.”
